


sweet kisses on bruised lips

by miraclemoon



Series: Prewar Boys in Love [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraclemoon/pseuds/miraclemoon
Summary: “Five minutes.” Bucky states, tone exasperated as he presses bandaids against Steve’s scraped knees, “Said I’d be done in five fuckin’ minutes, and when I get back you’re kissing pavement.”
“I had him on the ropes.” Steve defends, the heat of the fight still lingering in his gaze.
In which Bucky takes care of Steve after his last fight. Rough kisses and short tempered Steve up ahead!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [martystcutie (jamesbuchanan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesbuchanan/gifts).



> Written for Nicole, enjoy some spitfire Steve and concerned Bucky!

“Your nose ain’t never gonna set right after this.”

Steve winces as Bucky presses another cotton swap against his skin, the alcohol stinging and angry against his open wounds.

“Don’t know _why_ I ever expect you to keep to yourself, Rogers.” Bucky huffs, rolled sleeves slowly unfolding against the length of his forearm as he gentle wipes away the dried blood on Steve’s lower lip. Dirty towels lace the length of the bathroom sink, and Steve can’t help but mull over it.

They can’t afford new ones, and the stains won’t ever come out.

“5 minutes.” Bucky states, tone exasperated as he presses bandaids against Steve’s scraped knees, “Said I’d be done in 5 _fuckin’_ minutes, and when I get back you’re kissing pavement.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve defends, the heat of the fight still lingering in his gaze.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, stormy eyes animated with frustration as he presses his thumb firm and mean against Steve’s bandaid, pressing into the fresh wound that’s already starting to dribble with fresh blood.

Steve hisses and aims to kick at Bucky’s shoulder, narrowly missing it as the brunet stands and crowds himself into Steve’s space, pushing him further against the bathroom counter as both hands bracket the blond into Bucky’s space.

Steve is breathing hard, adrenaline hot and burning through his veins as he flexes his hand into a tight fist, ignoring the way his knuckles screech and burn from the scrapes and cuts.

“I _had_ him.” Steve repeats, voice low and angry. He tries to push himself past Bucky, climb off the counter and storm into the living room, but Bucky is unrelenting, blocking his every attempt to leave.

Steve’s tempted to punch him right in his perfect teeth, but decides against it, not wanting to make eye contact long enough to do it.

For all the fights Steve’s been in, he doesn’t expect Bucky to look so genuinely insulted by it.

This is part of their usual routine, Steve defends. 

He'll get into a fight, head back home, and they'll raid their medicine cabinet of disinfectant and new bandaids until Steve was ready and well enough to begin his next fight, letting the cycle continue on just like it always did.

What Steve doesn't expect this time is to smell the smoke in Bucky's breath, or watch the fumes pour out from his ears or listen to the bubbling of his blood as it boils underneath his skin.

Nor does he expect to feel his hand cup against his sore jaw, gentle but firm in its presence.

Steve feels Bucky’s fingers curl against his skin, nails digging and punishing as they graze against the sensitive skin of another scrape.

“Look at me.”

Steve doesn’t, his gaze trapped on the traces of blood that ruined one of Bucky’s only work shirts.

When Steve refuses to listen, Bucky pushes Steve’s chin up until they’re forced to make eye contact, growing impatient by Rogers constant sense of defiance.

“You know how terrifying it is to see my best guy pressed under some shithead’s boot? Spittin’ blood and on the verge of another asthma attack?”

“Well jeez, Buck, ‘s not like I’m _tryna_ lose whenever I pick a fight.”

Bucky’s brow twitches. Steve’s pushing all of his buttons and Barnes is a moment away from totally setting off. He watches Bucky work at his jaw, thick lashes hooding over his gaze as he swallows thickly.

Steve steels himself, because he’s too proud sometimes to admit when he’s wrong, even if he knows damn well that today was completely and utterly his goddamn fault. Picking a fight with men twice his size and forgetting his inhaler – _again_ – were huge problems.

Problems readily solved by Bucky.

Steve expects Bucky to raise his voice, to get mean and let his frustration finally show, to stop being patient and really give it to him this time for royally fucking up in more ways than one.

So he waits.

He waits to feel the wrath of James Buchanan Barnes unleash hell's fury upon his sorry ass, so when he  _doesn't_ , untouched and still alive like the breath in his lungs is a blessing, Steve can't help but be confused.

He listens to Bucky exhale a soft, feather light sigh that tickles at his throbbing lip. His shoulders, which previously were squared, have slowly relaxed forward, and the white in his knuckles from gripping the counter have once again filled with color.

Oddly comfortable for someone who’s about to rip Steve a new one.

When Steve slowly raises his gaze to steal a look at Bucky’s face, the man has his eyes closed.

Bucky’s chest slowly rises, holding the next breath in his lungs captive before exhaling slowly, trying to ease the culminating tension that is weighing down on his back and shoulders to release.

Steve takes a moment to watch the movement behind Bucky’s delicate eyelids, traveling down his face until his gaze locks on the twitch of his bottom lip.

It’s not long before the brunet finally opens his eyes again, expression strangely gentle.

 “Baby,” Bucky begins, tone softening as he leans in a touch closer, nudging Steve’s gaze up to meet his own. His other hand gently rests against the meat of Steve’s thigh, running up and down the length in a sweet, soothing manner.

Steve can’t help but shift in his seat, heat already rising up the length of his neck.

It hasn’t been long since Bucky began, well, began _that_. The pet names, or the sweet touches that always left goosebumps on Steve’s skin even if his fingertips touched nothing but the cotton of his slacks.

“C’mon sweetheart, look at me, needa see my guy.”

Steve actually listens this time, the heat cooling from his gaze as he looks into Bucky’s soft eyes. He almost wants to be angry, watching Bucky go sweet on him cause he knows it’s the only way for him to listen when Steve is still spitting smoke.

“What am I gonna do just cause you wanna dig yourself an early grave?”

“Exactly what you did before you met me.”

Bucky actually smirks at that, the asshole. His hand slowly rises up Steve’s thigh until he rests on his waist, thumb dipping underneath his shirt until it grazes Steve’s soft skin. A bruise is slowly welting in that spot, purple and mean. It hurts, but the touch is so gentle that Steve hardly minds it.

“Oh yeah?” he leans in closer, bumping their foreheads together. Bucky’s breath tickles, ghosting over Steve’s lips everytime he exhales.

“I’ve known a punk like you for more than half my life. Don’t think I even know how to live without you. Awfully sad if I go carrying around an inhaler for a ghost, huh, Stevie?”

Bucky’s lips barely graze against Steve’s, and the blond swallows fast, jaw tightening.

“Shut up.” Steve spits out, leaning forward to finally kiss Barnes in his stupid fucking face.

What he doesn’t expect is for Bucky to dodge him, tilting his head right out of Steve’s reach. The blond exhales a frustrated sigh and tries again, only for Bucky to repeat the same action, even taking a step back from Steve’s space.

Bucky has this shit eating grin on his face that makes Steve’s blood churn.

“What is it, baby?” Bucky asks with mock sweetness, that devilish grin still on his face, “What do you want?”

“For you to get the fuck back here.”

“Jesus,” Bucky laughs, his two arms folded across the expanse of his chest, “You’re running hot tonight, aren’t you, Rogers? You’re not usually this heated.”

The sound of Steve grinding his teeth practically echoes through their filthy apartment, bouncing against the rotten walls and spilling into the street through their open windows.

Fire is coursing through his bones, all the bent up anger from earlier this afternoon continuing to ebb and flow. He just needs Bucky and his dumb face to kiss the rage right out of him, but the bastard is relishing in giving Steve his punishment, probably waiting for Steve to look all pretty and beg for it like he wants.

Fat chance.

They stand there for a moment, a stalemate. There are wars raging in Steve’s gaze, while Bucky looks at him with patience and reverence, unbothered by the wild look Steve is giving him.

“You’re a punk, y’know that?” Bucky finally says, finality in his tone.

“Jerk.” Steve spits back.

When Bucky finally leans back in close, so _close_ , he fills the gap of Steve’s lips with his hot breath, the first kiss chaste, gentle; barely there.

The second comes and Steve can’t help but flinch, his split lip aching and sore as Bucky presses more firmly, finally returning his hands to settle against the blond’s body.

Hardly a minute of sweet kisses go by until Steve slowly feels himself slump forward, nimble fingers detaching from the counter and wrapping around Bucky’s neck, running through his messy hair. He scratches at his partner’s scalp, relishing the way he hums in approval and presses more firmly against the smaller man.

Steve gasps as Bucky bites at his bottom lip, his tongue swiping over the teeth marks he left behind to leave Steve’s bright red lips glossy with his spit. Even with the ache, he doesn’t miss the way Steve sighs into the gesture, opening his lips wider to let the brunet in.

Soft sounds slip past Steve’s lips, fragile gasps and moans as he floats on Bucky’s possessive kisses, unwinding and wrapping his legs around Bucky’s hips.

When Bucky finally pulls away, bringing a hand up to cup at Steve’s cheek, the brunet smirks.

 “Fuck’s sake, Rogers,” Bucky begins, tone gentle as his breath tickles at Steve’s ear, savoring the way the blond shivers at the sensation, “Next time you wanna go against someone twice your size, at least wait for me?”

Steve rests his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder, groaning in disapproval.

He hates having to wait for Bucky, hates having to depend on him to rescue him from his fights like some defenseless dolt who’s good for nothing but spitting insults.

Steve wants to fight for himself, win for himself, not expect his boyfriend to be there and do it all for him.

But whatever makes him happy, Steve settles.

 “Okay,” he relents, the ache of his nose bringing rational back to his senses, “Fine.”

Bucky nods in approval and presses more kisses into Steve’s messy blond hair, fingertips caressing over the smooth skin at the nape of Steve’s neck. He sighs as he feels Bucky run his hands down the length of his curved spine, sliding past his hips and settling below his thighs. Steve burrows in closer, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, pressing delicate kisses against the soft skin of Bucky’s neck.

Those two seconds of calm were pleasant, before Bucky firmly lifts Steve up from the counter, laughing at the way the smaller man scrambles to find purchase against him.

“Jesus!” Steve gasps, pawing at his partner’s shoulders, “Buck, let me down–“

“No,” Bucky says simply, unbothered by Steve’s flailing fists as they hit against his chest, “If you wanna be selfish and almost get yourself killed, then I’m gonna be selfish right back and spoil you rotten till you’re all better.”

“Fuck you.” Steve bites, legs kicking.

“Maybe later, sweetheart,” Bucky smirks, giving a wet, loud _smooch_ on Steve’s right cheek, “Lemme at least make you dinner first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @badbrooklynbitch c:


End file.
